


The Eve of the Storm

by superfluffycool



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superfluffycool/pseuds/superfluffycool
Summary: Despite the dismal state of the SamCait/OL fandom, I had an idea for a story. I may not have another for awhile. Hope you enjoy.





	The Eve of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the dismal state of the SamCait/OL fandom, I had an idea for a story. I may not have another for awhile. Hope you enjoy.

She smelled amazing, like something clean and fruity. Tonight, she reminded him of some tropical woman with her light tan and the colorful dress she'd chosen for the party. His favorite part of the outfit was the fringe across the chest. He'd played with it while it hung on the door in their hotel, and he wanted to play with it again after she put it on.

He waited and watched as she checked herself in the mirror, fine tuning her hair and makeup, before stepping out. She was anxious, more so than usual, and he came to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, making sure to caress the fringe at her front. "You look beautiful mo chirdhe." He bent his head to kiss her bare shoulder and she sighed.

"You look good, yourself." She turned and kissed him softly on the lips, but the worried expression was still on her face. He dismissed it, but he felt there was more to it than usual.  
......................

Before they'd gotten to LA, Cait and her friends, with the help of an Aussie gossip writer, started an engagement rumor. This was her first public appearance since, and she didn't want to talk about it. This was going to stay a rumor. He'd told her over and over that she could deflect, and it would be fine. No one would press her if she did it with enough sly charm, but she looked as tightly strung as a violin. He promised himself he'd take care of that later, after the party, when he could mess up her hair.  
.....................

After posing somewhat ridiculously next to a series of cars, he and Cait, and the rumored fiancé went into the party. Good old Tony didn't bother him at all. In fact, he was probably the only man on the planet he could handle her being fake-engaged to. There was zero threat with him.

Despite her tension, which he still couldn't quite account for, he had a nice time. There was a novelty in being around so many actors that he was unfamiliar with, especially during awards season. Everyone at the party sparkled with money and enthusiasm. It was just the start, and hopes were high. No one's gamble had yet lost them clout, or paychecks. 

Well into the party, he noticed Cait had barely touched her drink, and she was still wearing that anxious expression. He checked to make sure there were no photographers nearby, then stroked her arm, "Do you want to leave?" She nodded.

They left Tony to find his way home and took one of the many cabs waiting outside. The ride was short. Not much traffic and it was still early. 

"You're so tense."

He massaged her shoulder with his thumb and she moaned, "That feels so good. Don't stop." 

He had a great many things planned for when they got back in their room. If he made her come, all that tension would evaporate. That's what she needed - a good round in the sack. As if she read his mind, she abruptly turned to him and pulled him close by his lapels, attacking him with her mouth. He was startled, though pleasantly so, until she bit him, "Ow, Cait." It was as if his massage had flipped a switch and she'd turned animal. 

She pulled away, breathless and and oddly panicked, "I'm so, so sorry! Did I hurt you? Are you alright?" 

She was so distraught over this small thing that he was compelled to smooth her hair like a child "Yes, I'm fine. Just surprised!" 

The rest of the ride they only held hands, and stroked each other's palms, not willing to open the door further.  
.......................

Once inside their hotel room, they removed their clothes. He dropped his suit jacket to the floor, and she carefully removed her earrings. She made quick work of his shirt buttons and belt, while he unzipped her dress and added it to the growing crumple of garments at their feet. She'd worn nothing but a thong beneath her dress, and he slid his fingers past the waist band. She moaned softly. It was just as he liked it - not completely bare, but well trimmed so that it looked like she was wearing a tastefully placed leaf when stripped naked. 

He pushed her back onto the bed and slid his fingers fully inside her, "Christ, you're tight." He dragged his stubbled chin down the length of her body, stopping only to kiss the soft, pale flesh of her breasts and abdomen. He slowed when he reached her thighs. He would drag it out, pulling the string of her desire until it was ready to snap. He traced the outline of her thong with his tongue and noticed that she was no longer panting, but crying.

"Mo chirdhe, what's the matter?" She crossed her arms over her face and began to sob.

"The engagement is going to be official." 

He felt as if he'd been stabbed through the middle with an icy dagger. He collected himself, then asked, "When?"

"Next week. I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how to. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." 

She was sobbing again, and he felt obligated to say something, "It's not your fault." There was no comfort in his tone. He couldn't muster it. It was supposed to stay a rumor, at least until next season so they could renegotiate their terms. This felt more, final. It would be impossible to walk back on.

He grabbed her wrists and wrestled her arms away from her face, "Cait. Cait. Look at me." She opened her eyes and he was pierced by how beautiful she looked, even with her face swollen with tears and snot. Tears pierced his eyes and he clenched his jaw to keep them from streaming down his cheeks,"You belong to me."

She stopped crying, and sighed, possibly with relief."I belong to you." He felt her muscles go slack for the first time all night and she moaned,"Fuck me."

He was burning with emotions - rage, desire. His cock was still on fire and he wasted no time at the invitation, tearing off her panties and plunging himself between her legs, then pinioning her arms above her head. "Whose cock is inside you?"

"Yours."

"Who makes you come?"

"You do." She moaned, "Harder. I want you to hurt me." 

He quickened his already agitated rhythm. He wanted to invite an entire flock of reporters into this hotel room to watch them. Engagement? Fuck the engagement. She was his. HIS. He was sweating with exertion and the fury of wanting to possess her. Only he could make her moan and cry out. No one else. He wanted to scream it. In fact, he was groaning, and had been for some time as he tried to force himself inside her. Not just her body, but her soul as well. She was gasping, perhaps in pain, but she continued to encourage him saying, "Yes", and "Like that." It was a relief not to have to restrain this tidal of emotion.

He buried his face into her neck and grabbed her buttocks, pulling her to him for deeper penetration. She wrapped her legs around him and moved her hips, searching for friction, but he dug his fingers into her, immobilizing her, and she cried out, biting his shoulder in frustration. 

He let go, spilling all of himself inside her - his rage, his pain, his sorrow. It all came pouring out.

It felt like some time had past before he came back to himself. She had her hand on his face, stroking the stiff hairs along his jaw and wiping the tears that spilled with his release. "I love you. There's only you," she whispered.

He swallowed, "I know."

The End.


End file.
